I have too many hobbies

Cirrus doesn’t remember much of getting off the bus. Of hugging her pack. Pulling Frater close and holding him there. What she does register, and remember, is the feeling of home. The soft warmth of Cumulus’ hand in hers the whole time, fingers laced together, gentle sure, but insistent. Stuck like Cumulus had put glue on her palm before laying claim to Cirrus’ hand.

There’s dinner—though Cirrus doesn’t eat much. She’s jet lagged and barely knows what time it is or even what continent she’s on. She’s exhausted, the kind of bone deep tired that only settles in after returning from a long trip. After the body finally realizes that is home, and it is safe, and it is comfortable and it can finally let go.

So, she isn’t surprised to find herself in her bedroom without fully remembering how she got there. Nor, is it surprising to find Cumulus pressed up against her. Standing on her toes to catch Cirrus’ lips in a kiss that has been overdue since the moment Cirrus boarded the bus and left her behind.

Cumulus tongue sweeps into her mouth and Cirrus curls her arms around Cumulus’ waist, pulls her closer. She buries her face in the cloud of her hair, smells fresh linin and spring even though it’s still a long way off. She noses along Cumulus’ jaw, presses her mouth to Cumulus’ pulse point and forgets, at least for a moment, how tired she is.

“Cir,” Cumulus whispers, tipping her head to the side to give Cirrus more access even as she protests. Her fingers clench against Cirrus’ spine and Cirrus’ chest expands with a litany of home home home. “Wait.”

Cirrus doesn’t want to. She wants to map each and every inch of Cumulus’ skin with her mouth. Wants to make up for every second way, wants to—

“Let me take care of you, please.”

It’s always the please that gets her. The way Cumulus breathes it rather than says it, the way she drags it out. Cirrus has never known how to say to no to her—even about things like this. Even when she is the one who wants to press Cumulus into the sheets—who wants to make her writhe. What Cumulus wants, Cumulus gets.

And, Cirrus knows, there is plenty of time for both of them to get what they want.

“And how, my love, do you want to do that?”

Cumulus answers with a musical laugh. She untangles herself from Cirrus, and Cirrus lets her albeit reluctantly. Cumulus makes efficient work of Cirrus’ clothes and coaxes her onto the bed. As soon as Cirrus’ back hits the mattress she sighs, full bodied and pleasured, and Cumulus laughs at her again. Settling on her knees between Cirrus’ splayed legs. She presses impossibly soft palms to Cirrus’ thighs, strokes her thumbs up and down until a rusty purr kicks up in Cirrus’ chest, it surprises her, how content she suddenly is. How all it takes for her to be truly happy is her bed and Cumulus in it with her. 

“Close your eyes, love,” Cumulus purrs, and Cirrus does, sinks deep into her pillow. The bed shifts as Cumulus settles. Cirrus expects the first huff of her breath over her cunt, but it makes her jolt anyway. She hasn’t been a nun during tour—of course not. But she hasn’t had Cumulus and it might as well be the same thing.

The first pass of Cumulus’ tongue is gentle, not teasing just soft. A warm up. Cirrus slides one hand into Cumulus’ curls, feels the softness of them against her fingers. When she moans, it’s partially because of the pleasure and partly because of who is giving it to her. Her other hand slips down to rest against Cumulus’ cheek. Her fingers grazing over the ghoulette’s jaw so she can feel every movement of it in the pads of her fingers.

When Cumulus finally, finally slips a finger inside of Cirrus, she keens, toes curling, back arching. It’s bliss to be here with her, to be loved by her. And she is reminded again of one of the reasons she loves touring so much: she gets to come home. She gets this particular brand of pleasure bred from distance.

“Make me cum,” Cirrus breathes, voice shaky already, “so I can fuck you until you can’t walk.”

Cumulus laughs against Cirrus’ clit. “Is that a promise?”

Cirrus shudders above her, tightens her grip on Cumulus’ hair, nods even though Cumulus can’t see it.